


Snapshots of another Life

by therune



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therune/pseuds/therune





	1. Snapshots of another life

Ezio slowly gained mastery over the mysterious apple.  
He managed to duplicate himself, he held the power of an army in his hand, and he could see through time and space.  
The apple could show him fantastic images of what once was.  
He decided to follow his revered ancestor, the great Altair Ibn La Ahad, in order to learn from this man.

He didn't quite get what he expected.

 

The sun rose over Masyaf. Altair rolled over in his bed, wanting to evade the waking world for a little while longer. The cry of a baby made that impossible. He nudged Maria's shoulder.  
"Tend to him, he's your son."  
"Before noon, he's your son."  
Altair grumbled and got up.

 

Altair thrashed wildly, fighting for his life, "Malik! Malik!" he screamed, panicking as water invaded his mouth, "I can't swim!"  
A hand grasped his shoulder and pushed him up.  
"The water is just waist-deep, you novice."  
Altair pushed his hood over his face, cheeks burning in shame.  
Malik still clutched his robe, making sure that he didn't drown.  
Malik's little brother Kadar, age 5, swam past them, paused to wave at Malik and then swam through the whole lake.

 

A thunderstorm tore over the land, filling the night with raging sounds and fear. Altair was a trembling heap underneath his blanket. He was a big bad assassin, he wasn't afraid of thunder and lightning!  
Thunder roared and he flinched. He peeked out under his blanket and saw - briefly illuminated through a lightning - Malik and Kadar sleeping soundly, Kadar's tiny fist grasping Malik's shirt. Thunder roared again.  
Altair cursed and inched closer to the brothers. And closer.  
And closer.  
Morning found him, scrawny arms firmly wrapped around Malik's torso and sleeping peacefully.

 

"It's a puppy, Altair, it won't hurt you," Kadar said, holding the little dog in his lap. The dog - an unidentifieable mix of breeds - had big eyes, soft fur and a big tongue with which it licked all over Kadar's face when the puppy could reach it.  
It looked harmless. Malik scratched it behind its ears and it pushed its head into his hand and licked his fingers.  
"It's adorable," Malik said.  
Altair came closer, stretched out his had, and then the puppy growled and snapped at him.  
"It's evil!"  
"Stupid novice!"

 

Altair was climbing up the wall of his own home, looking through his own windows and spying on his own wife and best friend. After a brief period of open dislike, these two had bonded quickly and had become friends.  
Altair would sometimes come into a room where they both sat and they would suddenly burst out in laughter. They never told him why, but it annoyed him.  
He trusted both of them, but he could hear the other assassins talking behind their backs. Some spoke of conspiracies, some spoke of mutiny, some spoke of adultery - and finally he couldn't take it anymore. He watched Malik enter his and Maria's chambers from afar, then got outside and scaled the wall.  
He would find out what happened at those secret meetings.  
"He used to be romantic. I remember when he would chase me over the roofs of Jerusalem, climbing towers to be with me, he would catch me and then whisper declarations of his love. He used to climb mountains to fetch me exotic flowers. He would go to the market and steal something really nice for me. Do you know what he got me for our last anniversary?"  
"Let me guess: a set of throwing knives?"  
"Malik, how did you know that?"  
"Guess what I got for my last birthday?"  
"I wonder why I ever fell for that guy."  
"Trust me, we all do."  
Both laughed.

Altair had gained the right to wear the white robes of an assassin. He was proud, he felt invincible, and then fell headfirst into a puddle of mud. The stains were impossible to get out.

 

He was having the worst day; his target had spotted him and he had had to chase it through half the city, attracting half of the city's guards and in the end he was more running away than pursuing his target. He fled to the rooftops, dodging arrows and hands that attempted to grab him. His lungs burned like fire and he was certain that he wouldn't be able to keep going for much longer.  
He spotted a rooftop garden and dove inside, begging for it to be over.  
"What are you doing, novice?"  
Malik was already in there, waking up from a nap, as it seemed.  
"Guards, chasing, the target, I had-"  
"You failed your assassination and attracted the attention of all the guards? Impressive, I did not know that you could be that incompetent!"  
Malik grinned mischievously.  
"Who is your target?" he asked.  
"The slave-trader Adil."  
"Very well," Malik said and then stripped off his dark robe.  
"Malik," Altair hissed, "what are you doing?"  
Malik only grinned, as he tossed the robe at Altair. Then his hand went to Altair´s belt - "Hey!" - and snatched the white feather.  
"See you later, oh great and mighty Altair," Malik said as he pulled up his hood. Altair only then noticed the sword at his hip and the knifes in his belt.  
"Safety and Peace, novice!"  
Malik bolted from the hide out, the guards following him - "Assassin!" - and he ran over the rooftops, seemingly flying.  
Grudgingly, Altair took the robe and slid out.  
He was waiting in the bureau as Malik dropped in from the roof, panting, his pants bloody but a big grin fixed on his face. He pulled out a bloodied feather and presented it to Altair.  
"Beat that, novice!"


	2. Chapter 2

Ezio had been unsure whether it was wise to use the apple.  
It still was a powerful artifact with secrets and unknown powers. Besides, his efforts to learn something from his ancestor Altair had been less than fruitful. Ezio was now really glad that he could swim and that he wasn´t married, but that was hardly something new. But, he was determined: Altair´s life couldn´t consist of just failures, being humiliated by his wife and best friend and embarrassing experiences.  
That one incident when Altair had impersonated a priest and had revealed the Evangelion of Malik that was basically all about how evil water and puppies, had scarred Ezio permanently. Those were images he didn´t want to see again.  
The Apple emitted a soft, golden glow.

 

"Malik, have I ever told you that you're my bestest-est friend? Cause you aaaaaaaare," Altair slurred. He had an arm thrown around Malik's shoulders and gestured with his hand. The fluid in the goblet sloshed and dripped onto the floor. He was completely smashed. By the looks of it, Malik didn't fare any better. His face was bright red and he would have fallen over if not for Altair's arm.  
"You...I respect you, man," Altair continued. Malik grabbed Altair's hand with the goblet and pulled it to his mouth. He drained it, the wine dribbling down his chin into his beard. Altair grabbed Malik's chin and tried to lick the wine off it.  
"You're drunk," Malik drawled.  
"And you´re sexy," Altair said grinningly, and then keeled over.  
None of them ever remembered anything in the morning.

 

"Joshua is a good name."  
"No, Altair"  
"Fine, darling. Binyamin."  
"No"  
"Jalal?"  
"No"  
"Hashim?"  
"Fine, what names do you like, Maria?"  
"I was thinking about Malika"  
"WHAT?!"

 

As hot and unbearable as the days were, the nights were far worse. They were dark and extremely cold. And, they were lonely. Especially for little boys who missed their family. Altair was cold, very cold. He glanced over to the sleeping forms of the Al-Sayf brothers. They were so close, they were warm, they were family. He huddled himself into a small ball. He fell asleep after long hours full of shivers.  
He awoke squished beneath two warm bodies. Kadar clutched his left side, head on his stomach. Malik lay sidewise over his chest. Warm, content, and with a family, Altair once more succumbed to sleep.

 

Altair hated studying. The teachers always extoled the virtues of knowledge, of reading and learning. To Altair, it was a waste of time that could be spent training, exercising or riding. And of course, Malik was good at it. Well, as long as it didn´t involve too many numbers. He was good at drawing, though.  
Altair regularly got scolded for his behavior and studying efforts. Malik often received a pat on the head and a "his talent lie in other sectors". Kadar was a star pupil, more advanced than Altair or Malik.

 

Altair returned after a mission in Egypt. He was exhausted, tired, scratched, he had been shot at, yelled at, and he had almost drowned. He was having a very bad day.  
He wanted peace and quiet, he wanted to sleep on a soft bed next to his wife instead of sleeping on a haystack and most importantly, he wanted to avoid all the other assassins - no reports, no statements, no comment.  
But of course, as soon as he arrived, he was pestered with questions over qestions. His mood soured more and more. He was finally able to slip away and made his way to his private quarters.  
"Safety and Peace, Altair," a husky voice greeted him.  
Maria - wonderful Maria, beautiful Maria, beloved Maria...clad in the dark robes of a rafiq? Her face was hidden underneath the white hood. Altair swallowed. He recognized these clothes. They were well-worn, carefully mended and too big for her. Maria wore Malik´s clothes.  
"I don´t know whether I´m confused or turned on right now," he admitted.  
"Come here," she beckoned him closer with a whisper and a finger, "novice."  
Definetely turned on.


	3. More snapshots of another life

Altair looked happily at the child in his lap. His son gurgled happily and babbled nonsense. "Can you say father?" Altair asked. "Fa-ther."  
The boy giggled, then he looked into his father´s eyes, grasped his hand with his tiny fingers and said, loud and clearly, "Altair."  
"Fa-ther."  
"Altair" the boy clapped his hands happily.  
"Faaaaa-theeeer"  
"Altair."  
"Dad?"  
"Altair!"  
"Daddy?"  
"Altair."  
"Dada?"  
"Novice!"

 

"And Hassan wanted to talk to you about enforcing the western wall, and---you´re not listening to a single word, I'm saying, are you?"  
"You're right, honey, Hmm-mmm."  
Altair and Maria sat in a sunny corner of their bedroom. Altair's head was on Maria´s lap. She informed him of business in Masyaf as she gently carded through his hair. He dozed, content, sleepy and unguarded.  
"So, you're not paying any attention?"  
"If you say so, darling."  
"The new assassin robes will be black."  
"If that's your opinion, I think you should go for it."  
"The moon is made of cheese."  
"Of course you can, honey."  
Maria smirked.  
"Can I have that new horsed I wanted?"  
"Definetely."  
"Can I have your sword?"  
"Anything, my love."  
She smiled, caressing his face. Then, mischief grabbed her tighly. Her eyes sarkled as she leaned down over Altair's face.  
"I'm going to run away with Malik. We're taking the kids with us to England to the court of Richard Lionheart."  
"That's fine - wait, what?!"

 

Altair was awoken by a soft sound. He lay motionless, trying to recognize it. It was a voice, something spoke - no, sang, in soft and hushed tones.  
He didn't know this song, but it was beautiful, lulling him to sleep.  
He had to find out where it came from. He was very surprised when he found Malik sitting upright, leaning against the wall of their room. Kadar was curled around his side, clutching his arm, sleeping soundly. His face was red, stained with tears. He must have had a nightmare.  
Malik sang a lullaby for him, and it was the most beautiful thing that Altair had ever heard in his young life. It was quiet, soft, gentle, whispered by a boy for his baby brother. Altair had never seen this side of Malik before. If someone had asked him to describe Malik, he would have given a lot of unflattery names first and then said "prickly and stubborn". He had known that Malik was fiercely protective of Kadar, but until now he had protected him by beating people up who harmed his brother. He hadn't known that there was something else to Malik.  
Entranced by the song and by an unknown thing, Altair approached Malik quietly. Malik followed his movements with wary eyes, but didn't stop singing. He motioned for Altair to be quiet. Altair nodded and sat down on Malik's other side. He listened for a while, then he became sleepy. His head dropped on Malik's shoulder and he fell asleep. Malik kept on singing.

Altair had just returned from a mission and wanted nothing more than to see his family again. He opened the door to their quarters. It was late, the children would be sleeping. "Maria?" he called softly.  
The only answer he got was a song drifting from the children´s room.  
He had not heard it in many years, but he recognized it in a heartbeat.  
He entered the room to find Maria sitting in a chair, singing to their children. It was beautiful. She looked up and smiled. She motioned for him to be quiet and beckoned him closer. He sat to her feet, resting his head in her lap. He smiled as sleep took him.

In every century, in every place on earth, little children are curious. They will crawl into every corner, explore every nook and cranny and climb onto anything they can find.  
In Masyaf, the children were exactly the same, if only more apt at climbing.  
It was not uncommon for the older assassins to find a child sitting forlorn on a chandelier, having climbed up but lacked the knowledge on how to get down again. It was no unusual sight to return to Masyaf and see a child perched on the walls. However, it was uncommon to see not only one, but to teenage assassins both sitting at the highest point.  
Altair had challenged Malik to a race, Malik had insulted him and then accepted. They were equally matched and now both occupied their goal, having reached it simultaneously. Right now, they were having a shouting match that revolved around who had won. Needless to say, both insisted on having been first.It went on for a good half hour until both realized that they both didn´t know how to get down without leaping headfirst into a pile of hay.  
"I've seen the older men do it, it can't be too difficult."  
"Jumping is easy, the landing is the hard part. We could die, Altair!"  
Both looked at each other, the wind tearing at their clothes.  
"I'm scared, Malik."  
"Me too."  
"I'm sorry for challenging you to this stupid race."  
"I'm sorry for accepting."  
"I don´t want to die."  
"Me neither."  
"I don't see another way down."  
"There is none."  
Malk took a deep breath and grabbed Altair´s hand.  
"Together?"  
"Always."  
Thy leaped...and landed safely in the very center of the haystack, their fall cushioned and both very much alive. They dove out of the stack, straw clinging to their clothes and hair.  
Malik started laughing, Altair joined in. He slung his arm around Malik and both walked back to their room.  
"Remind me never to challenge you to absurdly dangerous races ever again,"  
"Will do, Altair, will do."  
The next week, Altair challenged Malik again. And Malik accepted.


	4. Even more snapshots of another life

"Altair! Malik! Stop it this instant!"  
Altair actually had the decency to look sheepish as the teacher caught them playing the drums with a deceased templar´s helmet and his leg bones.

 

Training was vital to becoming an assassin. Studying was, too. Honing your skills every moment was crucial.  
The assassins understood that, from the deadly men clad in white to the rafiqus and Al Mualim.  
But they also knew that kids were just kids and played a lot.  
With young assassins, hide and seek was no ordinary game, played for fun and laughter. It was training, anticipating moves, thinking like the enemy, moving swift and silently.  
What the adults forgot was that kids tend to be competitive and thick-headed.  
These games of hide and seek turned into village-wide tournaments and lasted for hours.  
The elders watched amusedly as the novices sneaked around, trying to avoid any noise. Young assassins were found on and behind book shelves, clinging to window sills, in cupboards, small closets and even under the robes of rafiqs.  
Whenever it was Altair's turn to seek, he always went for Malik first and always found him rather quickly, and he would never say how he always knew where Malik was was.  
Kadar was much better at hiding than seeking, but he often teamed up secretly with his brothers.  
And Malik was quite content to keep his fellow assassins waiting, knowing perfectly well where they were, but didn't bother to find them. He once "overlooked" Altair standing behind a curtain while his feet were peeking out underneath.

 

Altair had matured, had changd and had become the leader of the assassins. A wise, powerful man...who occassionally put his foot in his mouth.

A remark about Maria's sword skills had him sleeping on the proverbial couch, which meant that he spent the time at Malik's being miserably dunk and yelling "Why doesn't she love me anymore? I'm so sorry!". Later, he stood underneath her window and begged her for forgiveness...still being drunk out of his mind and waking the whole fortress in the process.

His advice on dodging technique earned him a black eye, courtesy of Malik´s foot.

After a thoughtless remark that was overheard by both Malik and Maria, he had to flee the country. Officially, his consult was needed in Malta. In reality, Maria and Malik were mad at him and he would rather swim to Malta than to face their combined wrath. He brought gifts with him as he returned and apologized. Maria got trunks of clothing he happened to find and a broadsword. For Malik he had a jewel-encrusted golden falcon. Malik used it as paperweight and on one occassion threw it at Altair.


	5. And now even more snapshots of another life

"Are we there yet?"  
"Maria, he's asking it again."  
"Altair, be mature."  
"Maria, tell him that no, we haven't arrived yet."  
"Mother, tell father that I can hear him perfectly fine."  
"Maria, tell-"  
"I have had it with you two! Can we have one family outing where you won't play this stupid game?"  
"Maria! This is not a family outing, we are here to kill Genghis Khan!"  
"Assassinations are the only things we do together as a family anymore."  
"Fine. Anything to make you happy. First, we kill him, then we have a little vacation."  
"No more immature games?"  
"I'll stop if he does!"  
"Altair!"  
"Fine, fine, no more games."

 

"I still don't see why this is such a big deal."  
"You did marry her."  
"Yes, and I love her. Why the big celebration though?  
"Her customs, your wife, and now your customs."  
"Are you sure it works that way?"  
"With Maria? Oh yes. Now suck it up and get her an anniversary present."

 

All assassins go through the same training, but every assassin is different. Master Jabril has a clean, straight forward fighting style, all quick blade and cold steel. Master Ismat fights like he is a river, he is fluid, fast and everywhere around his enemy. Master Shanaz is like a tower: no blow will make him move, no attack makes him flinch and no strike is enough to make him blink.  
Altair wants to be strong like Jabril, fast as Ismat and brave as Shanaz.  
But more than that, he wants to finally beat Malik.  
So, if he does cheat, if he does bite and scratch and yell, it will be worth it in the end.  
Well, eventually, as soon as he gets to that.

 

Altair didn´t care for the fine arts. Others found beauty in drawings, in music, in dance and song; he saw efficiency, he saw technique, he heard sounds. Then his life changed.  
Suddenly, Malik´s maps were more than just lines on papyrus; Maria´s fighting was not a battle, it was dance. Altair´s son was born, and there was beauty.


End file.
